


Difficulties

by orphan_account



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, PWP, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Túrin does not understand the meaning of 'going slow'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difficulties

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr request for a Beleg/Túrin first time.

Beleg was, by nature, fiercely passionate. It was not hard for him to become aroused, and in the arts of the bed - which ought to be, in his case, called the arts of the forest floor for more accuracy - he was far more rough than many of his fellows had taste for. It was one of the reasons he slept more often with his companions than with maidens. And when he had someone for the first time he usually had to restrain himself, move slowly so as not to frighten them…

“Beleg,” Túrin groaned impatiently, his body shivering under Beleg’s touches again, and Beleg hissed out a frustrated breath.

“Túrin son of Húrin,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, leaning over Túrin and staring down at him with piercing eyes, “if I do not prepare you now, you will be sorry of it in the morning, and if Thingol sees you refusing to sit down after being out in the forest with me there will be trouble. Hold. Still.”

Túrin took the opportunity of their mouths coming close to catch at his hair and kiss him again. Beleg permitted it, his free hand curling tightly against the damp earth of the forest floor as he held himself back; it was difficult, with Túrin biting at his lips, sucking and tasting hungrily. He drew back, breathing quick, and struggled to stay focused.

“Get it done,” Túrin pleaded impatiently, his hips twitching, trying to ride down on Beleg’s skilled fingers.

“Patience,” Beleg said sharply, although he was not feeling very patient himself. If Túrin had been another elf, he would have had him on his knees by now; but Túrin was human, skin hot and sweaty under his touch, heartbeat pounding - so desperate, so full of want and so unfamiliar. And his scent - Eru above, Beleg did not know why but the scent of Túrin’s arousal was thick and heady, doubling Beleg’s own desire. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself, regain control over his body.

Túrin pushed himself half-upright, driving Beleg’s fingers deeper within him, to twist his hands in the shirt Beleg was still wearing and kiss him, feverishly hot with desire.

“Please,” he said into Beleg’s mouth, voice broken with the strain of arousal, “please, Beleg, do anything, just do something,” and he catches Beleg’s ear between his lips, and perhaps Beleg taught him just enough strategy to be unwise with, because he drew the lobe into his mouth and nipped, then mouthed at the point, and when he sucked on it Beleg slammed him back against the ground. Withdrawing his fingers from Túrin’s partially-prepared entrance, he raked his hands down his body instead, dragging roughly over his nipples and thighs, and as Túrin cried out Beleg could not hold himself back any longer.

“Foolish boy,” he said with a mixture of frustration and fondness and lust, and then bit the words off and groaned between his teeth as he sank into Turin. The young man stiffened, but quickly ceased fighting the new intrusion as Beleg dipped his head, closing his mouth around Túrin’s cock.

“Beleg - ah, please Beleg -”

He swirled his tongue skilfully around the tip, sucked gently; but he went no further, seeing how far Túrin was already driven, and raised his head as he sank fully into Turin’s body.

“So impatient,” he murmured, pressing light kisses against the shivering skin of Túrin’s belly. The young man did not respond for a moment, accustoming himself to the new feeling, but the first thing he did was move his hips uncertainly, a soft moan breaking past his lips.

“Give yourself time to adjust to it,” Beleg said, although it was taking all his willpower to stay still with Túrin’s body tightening around him, but Túrin was having none of his attempts at gentleness. He tugged at Beleg’s loose shirt-hem.

“Move,” he gasped.

Beleg was used to having to hold back. He was not so used to his bedmate - or, more accurately, forest-floor-mate - being so impatient.

“You’ll regret this,” he warned.

Túrin glared up at him under lowered brows - so easily offended, even in situations like this.

“I shall not.”

Beleg grinned, letting a little of the wildness he’d been holding back flow free in his veins. Leaning down, he rocked his hips carefully, moving them, trying to find… His smile grew broader as Túrin gasped, his body stiffening. Beleg pressed a kiss against his lightly bearded cheek, inhaling the maddening scent.

“Then prepare yourself, if you are so eager, and we will have to prolong our ‘training’ in the forest a little longer.” 

If this was going to ruin both of them, they might as well enjoy it fully while it lasted.


End file.
